"SURVIVOR" Is My Bitch

Up one mountain pass after another. In the freezing rain and snow then in the blistering sun. Poaching campsites in closed camp grounds, along old stretches of highway almost completely grown over with weeds, and along rivers and creeks so that finaly, I'm here on the other side of the Rockies in Dolores, Colorado. What a fucking ride! The downill runs are simply incredible. The grades are so steep through the high mountains that it looks as if I'm coasting at thirty miles an hour straight down into the earth. Worth every bit of the grueling, slow ascents.

I have to wait here for my bank card to arrive. I hate that shit; being at the mercy of others. I'm ready for a HUGE dinner, a HOT shower, CLEAN clothes, and climate control. Just one night of that and I'll be ready to roll through the badlands of Utah.

Hurry the fuck up, bank card!

Eater of Monarchs

Holy Mary MuFu. The ride out of Howard, CO. was steadily uphill right up to the aproach to Monarch Pass. Then it REALY got uphill. A 6% grade winding up the mountain for over ten miles. I walked most of it as the altitide realy started getting to me. The scenery was just sublime. Unbelieveable, in fact. At around 5:30pm or so I was at about 10,900 feet and realy starting to burn out. The sun was going down, clouds were thickening, and it was starting to snow. I pushed the bike on. Finaly at 11,200+ I made it over the pass laughing and crying at the same time like a maniac.

The run down the other side was ball-shrinking adrenaline. Ten miles in the driving snow, flying down the mountain like I was on a motorcycle. After reaching the bottom in a town called Sargents, a bar maid told me of a place a little down the road where I could camp. Not a bad spot. The ride here to Gunison was easy after tackling that Monarch. Probably head on to Sapinero after lunch.

Out With The New, On With The Usual

Allright, ladies

I'm buying the new bike tomorrow, transfering all the gear to it and then I'm hittin' the bars for some much-needed beer, pizza, face slapping from strange women, and other indulgeances I haven't experienced in slightly over a month. Living in the woods is cool and all, but I'm ready for some high-falutin' hooplah.

Some homeless guy who claims to be an engineer wants my old bike, complete with the busted shaft, to make some sort of helicopter or pedal-powered auto gyro. "More power to ya, freak." is what I say. Sure, he can have it. It's nothing but an expensive push-cart to me. I sure as HELL don't want to replace the broken shaft with another piece-o-shit that'll bust on me later so I'll call it a loss.

Fuck inovation!

Pueblo Declares War On PPueblo!

Alright, I went shopping around for a new bike and found one I like made by Diamondback, I name I have trusted since the ol' BMX days. Not some exotic-ass wackyness. I should have it Tuesday afternoon, spend the night drinkin' and ho-in', then cut out some time Thursday depending on how I feel. I'm starting to see lots of other long-haul bikers come and go. It's not right. I started earlier than ANYBODY. I should BE there by now. Fuck around, fuck around.

My rolls of film from Oklahoma and Kansas haven't made it to my friend's house. Probably fucking lost. Hopefuly, after I confirm the address is correct, this next batch'll make it.

DAMN, I can't wait 'till Tuesday!!

Poo Sand Ever Not Flowing

Damn bike is busted. Stupid shaft snapped clean and sent my dumb ass over the handlebars in the dessert outside of Pueblo. I walked that peice-o-shit handcart back to Pueblo where I will buy a new, more conventional bike this Tuesday. Goddamnit. Another fucking week in this town. Damn near a month I've spent in this town with virtualy no money just waiting. Waiting for legal papers, waiting for a check, waiting on waiting periods to access money from the check and ALWAYS durring hollidays and weekends so the waiting is extended even further.
Pueblo's not a bad place, but goddamnit, I'm ready to move along!